Vultures
by Sidekicks-anonymous
Summary: Prime-verse, pre-series, one-shot. Survival in the lower castes required compromise; Knockout learned that lesson the painful way. Rated for disturbing scenes of violence and dark implications. Do not read if squeamish.


**WARNING: this is a lot darker than my usual work. If you're at all squeamish, I recommend finding something else to read. You have been warned.**  
 **I think this story is pretty good, but I feel like it could be better, so any critiques would be welcome.**

 **Edit: My awesome friend journal129 wrote a follow-up to this that I love. "Brightened Sparks." You should go read it.**

* * *

"More pressure, kid!"

Knockout obediently pushed down harder on the ruptured fuel line. Energon bubbled between his fingers as he tried to stem the lifeblood gushing from the damaged mech. Next to him, an ancient-looking bot was hastily gathering repair materials. Steelcharger was many vorns older than Knockout, and he looked it. One of his optics was covered by a crude metal patch—the result of a mining injury long ago—but he could still spot an energon leak as keenly as he had with two eyes.

The older mech leaned past Knockout and snapped a clamp above the rupture in the fuel line. The torrent subsided to a trickle. "All right, I'll finish this; you get the next one."

Knockout let himself be pushed aside. He snatched up a cloth from the work table and wiped the energon from his hands as he approached the next berth. Another damaged mech lay on it, mumbling incoherently. Like all their patients, he was covered in scars and rock dust to the point that his paint could hardly be seen. Blue puddles gleamed underneath the mech and pooled at the corners of his mouth. Knockout wheeled the mech into the operating area where the harsh light shone off the torn edges of his armor.

Steelcharger glanced up from his work to look at the other mech, frowning as he saw the extent of the damage. "That one's not gonna make it," he said, turning back to his own patient. Knockout hesitated, but he knew better than to question his teacher's judgement. He transformed his hand into a buzz-saw.

A glimmer of awareness popped into the mech's eyes as Knockout leaned over him. "N-no! I'm not offline! I'm n-not—"

One clean cut and the mech was silenced. Quick and painless—it was the best they could do for such cases. Knockout transformed his hand again and started assessing the damage more closely to see what could be salvaged.

"Never enough," Steelcharger grumbled behind him. "There's never enough; not enough energon, not enough supplies, not enough spare parts. You'd think the upper castes would figure out that healthy workers got more done, but instead they expect us to live off their scraps and dregs. It's a miracle anyone in this fragging camp is still online."

"It's because they have a good medic to rely on," Knockout said encouragingly. Steelcharger snorted.

"I'm no medic; I'm just a glorified cyber-vulture. You and I both—scavengers, stripping the dead hulls and sharing the pickings with the rest of the nest. That's all we'll ever be as long as the nobles are in charge."

Knockout frowned. He never liked it when his teacher described their work that way. Their methods might not have been...ideal, but their work was vital to this community's survival. Still, it was hard to argue with Steelcharger's assessment when he was currently disassembling a corpse for spare parts. So he kept silent.

"Slag, the patch isn't working," Knockout heard the older mech hiss. "Kid, is your stiff's main fuel line intact?"

Knockout checked the specified part. "It's damaged, but it should be functional."

"Get it prepped; I need it over here."

"Yes, sir." The young mech began removing the fuel line. The energon inside was still warm. Knockout vented deeply and focused on the task itself, trying to ignore the sick feeling that flared up in his tanks. That feeling never seemed to go away…

* * *

The stars were bright in the sky, but the dark clouds looming on the horizon suggested that the view wouldn't last long. Knockout leaned back tiredly against the wall of the med center. A half-empty energon cube sat beside him. There was no such thing as "off-duty" in this place—mines were notoriously dangerous to work in, and he and Steelcharger always had to be ready to tend the injured. But there were gaps in the flow of patients that Knockout could use to sit down and refuel.

The young mech pulled out a rag and began scrubbing at the stains on his armor. Flecks of energon, both old and new, constantly marred his red paint job. He knew that cleaning them was a fruitless task—they'd be replaced with new stains within a few hours—but he couldn't stand to just let them stay there.

The creaking of metal joints alerted him to Steelcharger's approach. He glanced up as his mentor sidled up next to him. "You should look at those joints, old timer. You're going to fall apart."

Steelcharger scoffed. "Kid, I was old before you were even a glimmer in the Well of Allsparks. If I haven't fallen apart yet, I'm not going to."

"Only because the rust is holding you together," Knockout quipped. Steelcharger let out a rare chuckle that sounded like two gears scraping together. Hefting his own energon cube, the older mech downed its contents in one gulp.

"There were some minor injuries in Tunnel Sigma," Steelcharger said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm gonna go take care of it. You're in charge of the med bay while I'm gone." He fixed Knockout with a one-eyed glare. "It'd better be in one piece when I get back."

"Yes, sir," Knockout gave him a mock salute. The older mech scowled to try and hide his amusement.

"And finish your energon; you need the fuel." With that, Steelcharger left. Knockout watched him until he disappeared among the miners' barracks. Venting, the young mech leaned back against the wall. He picked up his half-finished rations reluctantly, bracing himself before swigging the rest of the cube. He fought the urge to gag as the oily energon slid past his taste receptors—today's batch was even worse than usual. Smacking to get the residue off his tongue, Knockout leaned back against the wall. The dark clouds had come closer, gathering overhead. An acid rain storm was brewing for sure. Picking up his empty cube, Knockout headed back inside. If he was lucky, he could get some recharge before any other patients came in.

His berth was in a nook at the back of the med bay, along one wall. Steelcharger's sat against the opposite wall, though the old mech rarely used it. Knockout usually had to slip him high-grade to get him to recharge. How his teacher managed to function on so little rest, Knockout would never know; _he_ certainly wasn't capable of it.

Knockout flopped down on his berth, sighing in satisfaction as the weight came off his pedes. He lay there for a few minutes savoring the feeling. After a while he shifted his weight to grab something from under his berth. One of his few possessions—a large mirror shard he'd found in a junk pile when he was younger. Turning over onto his back, Knockout held the shard over his face. His reflection blinked back at him: a silver face framed by a ridged red helm. Spots of darker silver freckled his cheeks—an unnatural pigmentation he hoped would go away as he got older. He wasn't as scarred as most of the mechs in the camp, for the simple reason that he'd never worked in the mines. When his group of younglings had arrived at the mining camp, Steelcharger had picked him out immediately to train as an assistant. The mech wasn't a certified medic, but he was closest thing this little community had to one, and he'd need someone to replace him when he finally became one with the Allspark. Being Steelcharger's apprentice was hardly a cushy position, but Knockout preferred it to the alternative. He tilted the mirror so it showed his shoulders and chestplates. They were still spotted with grime and energon. The grime wasn't unusual—it was impossible for anything to stay clean in this camp—but the energon stains were something only he and Steelcharger sported. A reminder of the many lives they'd saved—and the many they'd ended.

Knockout vented and put the shard away, trying to shake off the disturbing thought. He knew that they didn't have much other choice—they simply didn't have the resources to repair every mech who came in. Some of the patients they saw were so mangled that they were hardly recognizable as bots. It was better to just offline them quickly than to let them linger on when there was no hope of recovery. And the spare parts they salvaged allowed them to save other mechs, to spread their resources a little further. That was a justifiable sacrifice—right? Steelcharger may have thought they were scavengers, but Knockout liked to think otherwise. These miners _needed_ them—and they needed their methods. He and Steelcharger could hardly be faulted for doing what was necessary under the circumstances.

Knockout groaned—contemplating morality gave him a processor ache. And it stirred up the sick feeling in his tanks. He off-lined his optics and let himself slip into recharge. Thinking could wait until later—right now he needed rest.

* * *

 _KA-BOOOOOOOOOM!_

Knockout was jolted out of recharge by the ground shuddering beneath him. He tumbled off his berth, hitting the ground painfully. The sound of the explosion was followed by a cacophony of smashing glass and crashing metal as every breakable object in the med bay fell to the floor.

"What the slag?…" Knockout rubbed his ringing audials. He quickly checked his chronometer—a few hours had passed since he'd gone into recharge. Jumping to his feet, he dashed out of his room. The patient from earlier was still in stasis—the shock wave didn't seem to have jostled him much. Knockout checked his vitals before running outside to see what had happened.

The camp looked the same as before—although that was mostly because there wasn't much to damage. A plume of dust and smoke rose from the direction of the mines. Dust-covered femmes and mechs scurried about frantically, shouting at one another. Knockout spotted a supervisor in the chaos, an unmoved island in the rush of panicked bots. Knockout squeezed his way through the crowd to get to her.

"What happened?" He shouted over the din of the crowd.

"That's what I'm _trying_ to find out!" The supervisor snapped back. She turned away from him, listening intently to her com-link. Finally she shouted a few orders into it and turned back to Knockout. "You're the medic, right? Get to Tunnel Sigma—there was an explosion and the cavern collapsed."

Knockout was already moving when her words clicked. Tunnel Sigma—why was that—?

Steelcharger had gone to Tunnel Sigma.

Knockout's tanks twisted painfully. He hastily transformed into his vehicle mode and revved his engine to alert the surrounding bots before taking off. "Out of the way, medic coming! Move, move, move!"

The sea of bots parted to let him through. As he roared through the crowd toward the mines, he activated his com-link. "Steelcharger! Where are you? Talk to me!"

Static was his only answer. The sick feeling in his tanks skyrocketed even as he tried to fight it down. The lack of response didn't mean anything; maybe Steelcharger was too busy tending the injured to answer his call. Maybe the energon released in the explosion was jamming communications. Maybe the blast had knocked out his teacher's com-link. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

In a few seconds that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Knockout arrived at the mines. A wall of bots blocked his view. Deciding he'd be faster on foot, Knockout transformed and pushed his way through. Let's see, this should be Tunnel Alpha, which meant Tunnel Sigma was a few kliks this way…

"Let me through! I'm a medic! I need to get through—" The wall of bots abruptly ended. Knockout stumbled as he broke through, barely avoiding a fall. He looked up to find the tunnel entrance—

And froze.

What had once been a flat stretch of ground was now a mile-long crater. Piles of rock filled the former mining tunnel.

No bot could have survived that.

In a daze, Knockout walked to the edge of the crater. A hoard of miners were already busy trying to clear the rubble away from the adjoining tunnels that had been blocked. One of them saw him and climbed up to meet him.

"Thank Primus you're here! Please tell me the med bay is still standing—"

"What happened?" Knockout interrupted, still distracted.

"It looks like they hit a vein of unstable energon. One of their tools probably created a spark and—" The miner looked despairingly at the devastation before him. "I don't think anyone in the main tunnel made it."

"Do—" Knockout had to force out the words. "Do you know where Steelcharger is?

The other mech hesitated before replying. The look on his face made Knockout think he didn't want to know the answer. "Last I checked, he was helping Hammerhead's crew. In the main tunnel." The mech gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

Knockout didn't respond. He felt numb. Maybe that was a good thing—he didn't want to deal with feelings right now.

The miner was still talking to him. "—they've pulled some crews out of the eastern tunnels, and I think they're working on the northern ones right now. Most of the survivors are pretty messed up—that blast caused cave-ins in other parts of the mine."

The miner was right; Knockout could see bots pouring from the adjacent mine entrances. Many of them were supporting or carrying other bots. Even from this distance, Knockout could see the blue gleam of energon staining most of them.

So many injured bots. There'd never been an accident this bad before. He couldn't do this by himself. He was only an apprentice; how could one medic be expected to handle all this?!

 _I'm not a medic_ , Steelcharger's voice echoed in his mind. _I'm a glorified cyber-vulture. You and I both._

 _That's all we'll ever be._

Knockout took in a shuddering vent. He bowed his head in silent acknowledgement of what he felt were his teacher's last words. Gathering his composure, he drove down to nearest tunnel entrance. He scanned the crowd and finally snagged one of the larger miners milling around. "You! Are you injured?"

The mech blinked at him in confusion. He was head-and-shoulders taller than Knockout, and much broader. Yellow optics glowed in a face that might have been red underneath the dust. "You're the medic's assistant… No, I'm fine."

"Good." Knockout grabbed the mech by his shoulders and made him bend down so he could make optic contact. "Listen, mech—I'm going to do everything I can, but I won't be able to save everyone. I need help. You need to do exactly what I say, when I say it, without hesitation. Can you do that?"

The red-faced mech looked over the carnage with uncertainty.

" _Can you do that?"_

"I… I wanna help if I can, Doc, but I'm just a miner, not a medic!"

"I don't need you to be a medic." Knockout sighed. He surveyed the masses of injured mechs still flowing out of the tunnels. Automatically, he started categorizing which ones would survive and which ones would meet their end on his operating table. "I need you to be a scavenger. Like me."


End file.
